Learning Lessons

by KT Morrison

  When she returned to the table from the bathroom she saw Tyler sitting there, a girl was behind him and she had her hands covering his eyes. Playing the Guess Who? game. She was young, twenty, short summer dress with spaghetti straps, an unbelievable tan on the healthiest, glossiest, most youthful skin Jess could imagine. One of the girls from the patio this afternoon. She peeked around, face-to-face with him, showed him all of her white teeth in a lip-gloss smile that didn’t put a single crease on her face. Jess sat in her chair and thumped her clutch onto the table top.

  “Oh, hey...” he said.

  Girl said, “Taylor.” Reminding him. Right.

  “Hey, Taylor, what’s up?”

  Tyler and Taylor. How cute.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she was saying. She had her hands on his shoulders.

  “Yeah, what a coincidence,” he said. His head was turned to Taylor but his eyes were on Jess. “Jess, Taylor was at the patio today.”

  Jess said, “I know.”

  “Hi-ii,” Taylor said, waving to her. Jess could see it in her eyes. A meanness. The way her hands stayed on Tyler right in front of her, content to confront.

  “Really, Tyler?”

  “Jess,” he said, threw his hands up and smirked, “Come on.”

  He was pretending this wasn’t on purpose. She didn’t believe that.

  She took her clutch and left the table. She walked to the dance floor. Probably wanted him to get jealous. Picturing her dancing with other men. She just wanted out. She cut through the centre of the floor, wedging between gyrating bodies and heading to the raised platform she could see on the other side. There was a bank of open doors there, spilling out into the open, night air.

  What did he want from her—what was his intent? Did he want some threesome? Were Taylor’s friends there too? Did he want a fucking orgy? There was something wrong with men. They were always so twisted. Sex was so odd.

  The open doorway put her out onto a deck. A huge three-tiered space filled with more people. She walked to a railing, farthest from the crowds, a little blank spot out there, where she could stop and think.

  Fuck, why did she leave?

  She leaned against the rail, felt the chilly night air sting her hot sweaty skin. The patio looked out over a boat-studded inland waterway. Lights shivered on the water’s black surface. She hung her head and breathed deeply.

  The group next to her was loud, boisterous. She wanted to leave, didn’t want to be here anymore.

  “Jess!”

  Tyler’s voice behind her. She felt instantly relieved that he’d followed her. She was stupid to run out like that. But Taylor scared the crap out of her. She closed her eyes and waited, needed to feel his arms go around her.

  “Jess, baby, don’t. Don’t do this.” His arms were on either side of her. She could see his big hands on the metal railing, he had her pinned, his chest against her back. She leaned herself into him. Those hands came up and his arms went around her.

  “I’m sorry, Tyler,” she whispered.

  “What?” he said. He couldn’t hear her over the noisy group next to them that roared out over something. Some ridiculous reaction, followed by raucous laughter.

  She turned herself in his arms and she got in his ear, said it again.

  “No, Jess, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know.”

  “Okay,” she said. She hoped.

  “Really, Jess. It was a coincidence. I know how it looked.”

  She pressed her cheek into his hard trap. “I want to get out of here.”

  “You sure? We were having fun?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Jess. We can go dance some more...”

  Wasn’t it after midnight? “Okay,” she said.

  “That’s my girl,” he said, then kissed her forehead. “Baby, look at me...”

  She looked up into his eyes.

  “...you’re all I think about, okay? You’re all I want.”

  She pressed her head against him, hugged him.

  He hugged her back. “Let’s go have some more fun,” he whispered.

  He took her shoulder and he walked her back towards the club.

  A short, muscular black guy from the noisy group stepped back, stepped on her foot.

  She yelped. He turned and he was apologetic. “Oh, sorry, I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

  Ma’am? Thanks.

  “Fuckin watch where you’re going,” Tyler said.

  Jess said, “I’m fine, it’s okay. He’s sorry.”

  Someone on the far side of the group said this: “Don’t bring your mom.”

  Something like that, she wasn’t sure of the phrase. Maybe, Guy brings his mom...mom was in there. She was surprised. Sure, it stung. It was what she had worried about, but now she was confronted with it, her first instinct was to laugh at herself. Then in the next moment, it really did hurt.

  She got in front of Tyler. She couldn’t stop him.

  He walked into the group. There were maybe five guys and a bunch of girls. All young, guys were pumped up. But not like Tyler.

  When the guy had said it, the girl next to him slapped his arm hard, chastised him, “Tony!”

  Tyler’s voice was loud, he said, “Fuck you say, bro?”

  Tony’s girl, the one that slapped him, got in between them now. She said, “He didn’t say anything, he didn’t say anything...” She was drunk. Pretty and blonde, but had too much to drink where she was slurring her words. While she was trying to calm things down her voice was shrill and somehow sounded angry. She made it worse.

  Jess said, “Tyler, let’s go.” She pulled his forearm but she couldn’t move him.

  Tony, the one with the loud mouth, was big, good-looking but a greasy kind of kid. Thick black hair, smarmy face, made expressions like he was on the Sopranos. He waved Tyler off with buttery condescension. Acting like he wasn’t afraid, but he wasn’t backing up his statement, just trying to save face.

  “Leave it alone,” the drunk girl said. She glared at Tyler, stretched her body between them.

  Tyler shoved Tony, reaching out over her shoulder and pushing his chest. “Watch your fuckin mouth.”

  Now Jess joined the drunk girl, she slipped in next to her and tried to get Tyler to step back. She said, “Boys, boys, boys.” An eternal third-grade teacher.

  One of the other five guys, in an effort probably to win the favour of his dumb friends, sought to be the hero. He thought he’d slip in and knock Tyler out with one punch. A fist launched from the crowd, hooking around from where Tyler couldn’t see it coming. It caught him right in the mouth and he threw his hands up, but he didn’t go down. He turned and now it was on. Phones came out to video from the crowd, the other guys in the group were hopping in place. Tyler tracked which one had hit him, and he hunched down. The sneaky puncher was a muscular, blonde kid with a tan and a polo shirt. The guy was afraid but he kept his hands up like he could stop him.

  Jess screamed, “Tyler, don’t!”

  But Tyler launched himself at the other guy, tackled him at the hips and he brought him down to the ground like a lion taking its prey. He straddled the guy, who’d hit his head on the deck, and he swung on him, one-two. A left and a right. It took three seconds. Jess could see the kid’s eyes staring dumbly at nothing. He was out. His arms reached up to try and claw at ghosts.

  Tony tried to kick Tyler in the face while he was down. His girl had grabbed him and she was weighing him down. The kick got him in his neck and it did nothing.

  Security was charging through the crowds. She saw two big black guys headed their way in skin tight yellow polo shirts with the club name on the chest. “Tyler, don’t, Tyler!” Jess yelled.

  Two more girls helped Tony, they got between them and it probably saved his life. Jess got herself into the fray again, another body putting distance between them.

  The bouncers got there and they didn’t care who started what, who hit who—they wanted the altercation busted up. Tyler, maybe from exp
erience, put his hands up like they were police.

  “Kay bro, I’m good, bro, I’m good,” and he started walking away.

  Jess ran to his side, “Let’s go, let’s go...”

  “Come on, girl,” he pulled her to him and he walked her along with the crowd. His eyes were wide and he was smiling from ear to ear. His lip was bloodied.

  “Oh, baby, your lip,” she said.

  He brushed it with the back of his hand, looked at the blood there, and laughed.

  He got her outside, out to the front of the club under the dazzling pink and orange lights. Jess fished a paper napkin out of her clutch and she stopped Tyler, she pressed the paper to his bloodied lip.

  “You okay?” he said to her through his hand pressed to his mouth.

  “Me? I’m fine, baby. Shaken up.”

  “Sorry, Jess. That guy...” he said, looking angrily back through the club. “We should get out of here.”

  “Yeah, let’s go,” she said, held her purse tightly to her, worried that someone was going to come after them.

  They walked down the sloped parking area for the club, crossed a pedestrian footbridge that went over a very narrow channel that smelled like seaweed. Tyler tossed his wadded up, bloody paper into it. He checked his lip. It had stopped bleeding. They followed along a quiet well-lit narrow street with gift shops and closed up ice cream stands. Tyler got down and asked Jess to climb up on his back again.

  “Tyler—” she resisted.

  “Get up there, Jess,” he said.

  So she did, climbed up his waist and held on to him while he stood up with her on his back. She hiked her skirt down.

  He walked along the street with her like that, and her heart rate started to come down. It started to feel good again to have herself pressed against him.

  “Take me to the beach,” she whispered into his ear.

  “Jess, look at this,” he said.

  “What?”

  “The sign,” he said. They were standing in front of a surf shop—a small colourfully painted little beach bungalow right up next to the street. It had a thatch roof and a sign hanging on an angle-iron that stuck out from the building at ninety degrees so you could read it walking or driving past. Casey Jones Surf Gear. And on top of the sign was a metal cartoonish silhouette of a train.

  “Jess, the train.” He said. He walked her underneath the sign.

  “Yeah?”

  “We should get it for the boys.”

  “What? No, Tyler. Are you crazy?”

  “Climb up onto my shoulders, baby, come on.”

  He hooked an arm under her knee and he started hoisting her farther up his back. She went with it. His other arm got under her other knee and now she was climbing up onto his shoulders. “Tyler, this is crazy. I’m going to fall. What are we going to do with a metal train anyway?”

  “The boys will love it, they can put it up on their wall.”

  “Tyler—” She was up on his shoulders now. Her hands gripped the sign. It was still too high. She could reach the train but there was nothing she could do about it. Plus, it was stealing. “Tyler, it’s welded on,” she said, faking her hands checking it. She ran them along the train where it connected to the sign so he could see her shadow on the sidewalk looking like it was making an effort. “Come on, get me down.”

  “Aw, Jess.” He put his arms up so she could hold on, brace herself while she climbed back down his body and got her feet on the ground.

  Then he said, “I’ll get it,” and he made like he was going to climb up the front of the building. “No, Tyler, don’t, don’t.” She had visions of him falling off the sign or it breaking with his weight on it and falling to the sidewalk and smashing his head open. He might be built like a tank but he could still get hurt. She wrapped her arms around him while he gripped an eaves trough and had one foot up on the painted stucco. “Tyler, baby, we couldn’t get it on the plane. Take me to the beach, please, baby.”

  “All right, all right,” he laughed. “The boys would have liked it, Jess.”

  “I know, Tyler, but we can’t get it home. Thanks though, baby.”

  “Hop on,” he said, and he thumbed to his back, knelt so she could climb on him again.

  He walked them out to Gulf Boulevard. There was a little traffic, and he ran across with her on his back. Cars honked. She stuck her legs out and she laughed as she bounced along, just a passenger for the ride. He kept running, heading down a wooden boardwalk with a sign that said, Beach Access. He ran under the lone light at the end that jutted on a greyed wooden pole dug in the sand; he ran up a dune covered in gently swaying beachgrass.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” she laughed.

  He kept running, headed for the sounds of the crashing waves. She was laughing again, she said, “My purse, Tyler, my purse,” but he kept running. She could feel he was laughing too.

  She threw her purse in the sand as she heard his feet slap on the wet tide.

  She yelled in his ear, “Tyler, you’re crazy!”

  Then they were in the water. She went under, pitched over his head, splashing into the deep salty Gulf. Her ears went quiet, filled only with an awareness of the bubbles and swooshing water. Then his arms found her grabbed her, pulled her to the surface and he helped her up and bobbed with her.

  She spat water out, choked and coughed, said, “You are...a maniac.”

  “You okay?”

  She laughed, swam to him, put her arms around him. She kissed him, gripped the back of his thick, powerful neck and pressed her lips to him as hard as she could. She felt his swollen, coppery lip. She sucked on his wound. He was so sexy.

  “Mm, this is nice,” he said, looking into her eyes, holding her and bobbing with her.

  It was a dark night. She could see the stars in the deep black beyond. There was no horizon. The water they were in was as black as the sky. Light from the shore danced along the edges of the waves. It felt very scary suddenly. Like they were suspended in the unknown.

  She said, “This is like the beginning of Jaws.”

  “I’ve never seen it.”

  “You’ve never seen Jaws?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’ve never seen Jaws?”

  He laughed. “No. Is it any good?”

  “Any?...Okay, get me out of here.”

  “Are you a fraidy cat?”

  “Yes. Of sharks? Yes.”

  “Wow,” he laughed.

  She clung to him happily as he waded to where his feet could touch, then he walked her to the shore and he put her back down in the macadam and kissed her. Her hands went to the hem of his shirt and she pulled it over his head, heard it slap wetly in the surf. A wave came up and washed underneath her. She felt the fine sand working through her clothes, tickling her skin. She sat up and took her clothes off. Tyler stood and pulled his shorts down and stepped out of them. His cock was swinging, heavy and hard. She got a chill. He stood naked over her. She was as bare as him, sitting below him in the wet sand. Another wave came up, washed over his ankles and splashed along her bottom.

  “Hold on,” she said. He stood and she admired him. His black silhouette against a starry night. Dim light from shore cut along the hard edges of his beautiful young body. This is how she wanted to remember him. “Okay,” she said.

  He knelt between her legs, kissed her lips, pushed her so her back was on the beach. Her hands tickled around his hard body, felt his incredible muscle.

  “Make love to me like I’m a woman. Not a girl,” she whispered.

  His cock was ready. She could feel it against the inside of her thigh. Her legs lifted, wrapped around his waist, exposed her sex to him. She ached to feel him, she was desperate for him to fill her. His lips sucked on hers, kissed her chin. The tip of his huge cock slid into place and she held her breath. Then he slowly, steadily pierced her. His enormous size sunk inside her, filled her up, confirmed to her his passion, her passion. Sand scratched as he buried his hardness in her, it dug into her and she
cried out. Another wave crashed below them and washed up around them.

  She let it all out. All the pain she had held, all the regret, all the shame. She was vocal—she cried into the darkness with each deep thrust. Her soft girl sounds were rushed away by the pounding surf. Tyler made love to her. He wasn’t gentle, but he was deliberate, straightforward. She held his attention with her kisses as she tried to consume him with her mouth. She bit and sucked on him. She devoured his tongue his lips, felt her body pounded by his young strong hips. She was powerless under him, she held onto him for dear life as the water crashed around them, over her face, up between them, into her creases and where she was penetrated by the greatest lover she would ever know.

  “Oh, Tyler,” she called out to the stars, knowing she was close. She felt free and young.

  “I love you, Jess,” he whispered into her ear, an urgent pant that wavered with his desperate thrusts. He was going to come too.

  She didn’t tell him what to do. He knew. This was lovemaking. It wasn’t dirty tonight. This was two people in rapture. She clawed him, thrust her head back as the orgasm came to her, let it be known it was out of the shadows and wanted to feel the light.

  “Ah!” she cried as it lunged at her.

  He roared in her ear, deep and masculine and animal, pure hard young male. He came. She felt it inside her, felt him flood her insides with his hot fluid. Stream after forceful stream tickling her with its heat. Her brow furrowed, her face swelled hot and red, she clenched her eyes, and the tears came.

  "Oh, Tyler," she cried. She hugged him like she never wanted to let him go and she sobbed into his wet salty neck.

  “Oh, baby Jess, what is it?”

  She shook her head in the hollow between his chin and shoulder and wailed and heaved. He hugged her, held her.

  "Baby are you okay, what’s wrong?"

  She cried, “Just hold me, don’t say anything just hold me tight, baby.”

  Later, much later, must have been three in the morning, she woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. Sand scratched at every part of her. Her back, her shoulders, in the tight folds of her neck. It was in between her legs, the creases of her ass and between her legs. It was even in her vagina. She got up, got herself in the bathroom.